"Well, I shouldn't have done, but for an old letter I turned up by chance the other day. How old are you?"
"Five-and-twenty."
"H'm. I am sixty-nine. You'll be a wiser man when you get to my age.—Well, if you can find room anywhere for that book there, perhaps you'd like to keep it!"
Waymark looked up in astonishment.
"A birthday present!" he exclaimed. "It's ten years since I had one. Upon my word, I don't well know how to thank you!"
"Do you know what the thing was published at?" asked Abraham in an off-hand way.
"No."
"Fifty pounds."
"I don't care about the value. It's the kindness. You couldn't have given me anything, either, that would have delighted me so much."
"All right; keep it, and there's an end of the matter. And what do you do with yourself all day, eh? I didn't think it very likely I should find you in."